


Rewriting the deaths of les Amis

by akanemi



Series: Rewriting the deaths of les Amis [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akanemi/pseuds/akanemi





	1. Chapter 1

The powder impregnates the air. All is blurry, all is grey, and the sky is red like fire, a tragic mirroring of the watery meadows where the corpses lay; corpses which used to be full of hope, dreams and ambition. Youngsters full of life.

All is lost, and the winner is silent, the winner is not.

In their yet open eyes you can see the ghost of the terror, the spectre of the crude reality they made themselves ignore through wine and impassionate speeches in a time that shall never return.

All is lost. And the winners are not.

In the centre of the barricade, high and torn, lies a symbol made legend. His hair, now wet with the blood of his brothers, used to shine in the sunlight; his eyes, now blank, used to ablaze with the fire of his soul. His hand holds a flag, but his heart carries the burden of a guilt he will never forgive himself for.

At his feet, the one who preferred death before a life without him.

 

_"And the tents were all silent, the banners alone... The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown"_


	2. Part II: Jean, Joly and Bahorel

Jehan lifts his head, sweat streaming down his temples.

His eyes meet the eyes of his fate.

He feels the bullet with all his fibers. With all his senses. Time stops and becomes Eternity, for the certainty of the darkness makes the last breath the longest and the richest.

With every second, turned into minutes, of his fall, his blue eyes lose their bright, his lips their colour, and a soft, sweet piercing pain wraps him in his final hour.

As he touches the ground, one last sigh escapes his body, one last murmur, the final vestige of an existence that is not anymore and shall never return.

_"Jolllly..."_

The sweet poet, the timid blushing angel lays on the ground, his wings turned into ashes, his body a mere corpse, his destiny accomplished. No glory, no future. Nothing. For all is over and all is gone.

-

Joly stands behind the barricade.

Motionless. Breathless.

Incapable of action.

He mumbles, but no sound escapes his lips.

He hears not. He sees nothing but his light blue eyes.

He feels nothing but _his_ pain.

All of a sudden it all comes back, and the desperation renews his strength. The canons blowing the furniture, the bullets flying rapid from both sides, the screams and the shouts, the cries and the moans.

He screams his name, with such vigour that he hurts his throat, he yells and howls, aiming to take it all of his chest. But it will never be gone.

His bruised hands seize the furniture, with his aching body he climbs, shouting, screaming, tears of pure and plain suffering streaming down his cheeks.

_"JEEEEHAAAAAAAAN"_

Bahorel feels the goosebumps, turns at the scream and sees him. He runs towards his brother, seizing him by the arms, his back against his chest. Joly fights, screams, hits him with all he has left, swears, spits.

_"He is gone. He is gone, my brother."_

Joly tries desperately to escape his embrace, his sobs choke him, his voice fails him, the irrational hate fills his veins with such force that his eyes turn dark, his heart turns into stone, and nothing of his is left uncorrupted.

Bahorel closes his eyes, his forehead against Joly's back, his arms around him, strong, unmovable, protecting, caring, gentle. But this embrace means more than the necessity to keep him away from the fire.

It is a farewell.

Their last memory. Their final moments on earth.

Five bullets pierce their bodies, still in this embrace, Joly's eyes still on Jehan's, Bahorel's closed. And as their bodies fail them and their bloods mix, his arms are stronger, his caress gentler, and his last sigh, a goodbye.

_"Brother"_

They fall.


End file.
